Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
I should still go. Cricket hasn’t made me feel like I’ve overstayed, but I think we both need a break before this gets any heavier. “I’m going to take off and let Savvy, who I have a strong suspicion is waiting in the hallway for me to leave, back in.” I start for the door but turn back to kiss her. It’s not slow or romantic, but for purely selfish reasons. It fills a need I have inside me to taste and feel her once more until I see her again.
Backing toward the door again, I grin. “You’re going to text me later, right?”
“Yep. I’ll text you as soon as I can.” She stands in the middle of the room where I left her, her gaze fixed on mine, and a smile that I left on her face. “Thank you for helping move the furniture.”
“Anytime.” I open the door to see Savvy stand straighter like she was caught slacking on the job. To Cricket, I say, “Bye, Little Chirp.” I knew I could get an eye roll from her. I chuckle as I pass her cousin. “Thanks for letting us talk.”
I gallop down the stairs to her, saying, “I’m going to be highly disappointed if talk is all you did in there.”
Looking back before I round the split in the staircase, I reply, “I never disappoint.”
Her laughter echoes above as I work my way out.
I’m still smiling like a loon by the time I reach the guard gate. Joe wasn’t on duty earlier, but he makes a show of it now. “Another drop-off, Mr. Greene?”
“Helping Ms. Dover and Ms. Dover move some furniture.”
“Brawn wins again. I’m more of a brains guy myself.” The punch would be swift and right to the mouth. Joe wouldn’t know what hit him before dropping to the ground. Such a fucking tough guy when he’s wearing a Winery Security badge like he’s FBI.
He can think I’m as dumb as rocks all he wants, but I’m the one Cricket will be texting later. So who’s the real fool? Anyway, I know better than to get in fights with people who think they’re real police. I will be the one paying the price, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to knock him out. “You have a good day now, Joe.”
He pushes the button like he has the power to access nuclear weapons. I’m not bashing the job because it’s solid work, but what exactly is he securing at a winery? Such a punk ass. The gate rises, and I nod before driving away from him.
Rolling down the windows, I let the April breeze blow through the cab. I can’t stop thinking about Cricket. She’s beautiful and seems into me, but she’s also a mother. I don’t know the age of her kid, or if the father is still in her life. Those tidbits feel important for me to know how to navigate the situation. But we can talk tonight. She seemed to have more she wanted to ask anyway, so we should get it all out on the table before we’re in too deep to turn back.
When I park the truck in front of the house, I see Beckett playing hoops. Tagger’s son has gotten tall. Not surprising since he’s a big guy, but his kid is only ten or so with a lot of growing ahead of him.
I shut the door to the truck and walk over to the makeshift half-court in front of the barn. “Hey?” I hold my hands out.
He tosses the ball to me. “Can you make that free throw?”
Jumping, I shoot for the basket. Circling the net, I can taste victory, but then it rolls off the side in defeat. “Can’t win ’em all.”
Beck starts to laugh as he retrieves it. “I thought it was gonna go in, too.” He tosses it from the side and makes it.
“Good job, man.” While he dribbles the ball, I walk closer. “You going to play for the middle school team?”
“Can’t until seventh grade, but I’ll try out next year.”
“You got good aim, which is half the game.” I hear a high-pitched chirp and look down to find a bug covered in dust on the dirt court. Kneeling, I smile when I see what it is. My little chirp. I bend to pick it up so I can relocate it to the safer plains of the field behind me, but pause when Beckett’s shoe speeds past my reach, landing on top of it with a loud stomp. My eyes shoot up to see Beckett standing with a grin like he’s destroyed the enemy. “Damn, dude, it was a cricket, not a cockroach.”
“Same thing.”
I stand back up. “No, they’re not. Crickets are a good insect to have around.”
“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry, but I also shouldn’t be as affected as I am by what he did. I’ve done the same. It was just a bug. So why’d it feel personal?